Peace
by JamesLuver
Summary: Eight months into her pregnancy, Anna is having trouble sleeping at night.
**A/N:** Happy Birthday to the lovely **theglamourfades**! Hope you've had a fantastic day! :3

This was based on a prompt over at OTP Prompts. I don't pretend to know anything about pregnancy, but y'know.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _Peace_

It had been the same for three days running.

As the ancient alarm clock on John's bedside table began to sound, signalling the start of another day, Anna scowled up at the dark ceiling. John shifted sleepily, stretching out an arm to fumble with the switch, and then dropped his face back into his pillow.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice muffled.

Anna turned her head slightly to glower at his back. Oh, yes, it was a good morning for _him_. It certainly wasn't the case for her. It wouldn't be a good morning ever again if she couldn't get even one good night's bleedin' sleep.

At eight months pregnant, the more unsavoury aspects of pregnancy had kicked in with a vengeance. She was waking more often to relieve herself, the baby seeming to find it fun to press down on her bladder at all hours, and there was absolutely no comfortable position for her to sleep in. Most nights now she twisted and turned, silently cursing John for being able to sleep through her discomfort, his rasping snores goading her as she desperately chased a moment's respite.

Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely fair. The long, hard days of work left John as exhausted as she was, and he had taken to fussing around her like a mother hen whenever he could, insisting that he carry things for her or prepare their nightly tea, or build fires they could ill afford to ensure that she was kept toasty warm. And if she was having a particularly restless night then he would be right up with her, plying her with glasses of warm milk in an attempt to remedy her insomnia, to the detriment of her bladder.

Sighing to herself, she shuffled closer to him, draping her arms around him as best she could with her huge swollen belly pressed to his back.

"Good morning," she murmured, giving him a squeeze.

He rolled over at once, taking the utmost care not to jostle her. His eyes were still drowsy, and she envied the fact that he was still acclimatising to the waking world once more. His hand moved to cradle her stomach, and he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. It was enough to brighten her spirits, and she moved her own hand to the back of his head, stroking her fingers through his thick hair.

"How did you sleep?" he asked when he pulled away, not removing his hand.

"Not very well," she admitted. Her stomach made it difficult for her to nestle herself into the crook of his neck, so she made do with finding his hand and threading her fingers through his. As if sensing what the increased pressure meant, their baby began to wriggle around inside them. John's eyes lit up at the sensation, even as his mouth turned downwards in disappointment.

"Again?" he said. "You should have woken me."

"What good would that have done?" she said.

"Then can't you slip away for a few hours this afternoon? I know Lady Mary and Mrs. Hughes wouldn't mind. They won't want you over exerting yourself, not this close to the baby coming. Doctor Clarkson himself has said it could come any time now that you're so close. We shouldn't antagonise the situation."

Anna rolled her eyes. John had been like this for weeks now. She was sure that if he had it his way she would be doing nothing but stretching out on the sofa and clock watching until he came home from work. She took the health of their baby as seriously as he did, especially after everything that they had gone through to conceive and carry to term, but she still wanted to work as close to her due date as possible. The thought of staring at the same four walls for hours on end with nothing to distract her did not sit well with her. She had worked almost every day of her life for more than two decades. And having busy hands meant there was less time to think and dwell on all the things that could go wrong. She'd never had that problem in the past, but since Mr. Green, her anxiety levels had spiked. She could control them much better than she had been able to do once, but with the difficulties that their baby had brought initially, the anxieties about something going wrong at the final minute and snatching away their happiness once and for all gnawed at the back of her mind like a mouse through rotted wood.

"I can't, John," she said firmly. "There's too much to do. I won't shirk my duties."

John sighed, but didn't press further. She could tell that it didn't rest well with him, but she was thankful that he didn't argue. The last thing she wanted was to start the day on a sour note when she'd already had so little sleep. She managed to crane forward enough to kiss his mouth before struggling into a sitting position with a great deal of difficulty. John's arm went around her middle at once, helping to steady her. Together, they managed to shuffle her to the edge of the bed, until she could just about reach the floorboards. She puffed out a laugh.

"I must look a sight," she said.

"A beautiful sight," he returned, pressing his lips to her cheek. "Here, let me give you a hand."

"Oh, yes, that makes me feel much better," she said, but she couldn't stop her smile. He heaved himself out of bed and rounded it to her side, winding one arm around her waist and finding her hand with the other.

"One, two, three," he murmured, pulling her to her feet. She steadied herself against his chest, her huge belly pressing into him.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said. "Much obliged."

"Anything for the lady," he teased in reply, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me know when you need some assistance pulling your stockings on."

That was something she still wasn't completely used to. In the right order of things, John should be helping to _un_ dress her, not put her clothes on like she was a helpless little baby. But since her stomach had ballooned outwards, she had trouble bending down to do anything, let alone manage her stockings or her shoes alone. John knelt down beside her every morning despite her protests so that he could fasten the buckle, and he took such care in ensuring that he didn't run her stockings, the valet's prerogative coming to the forefront. Every day, their routine ended the same way, with John rising with a huff that did little to assuage her concerns that he was overexerting himself needlessly on her behalf, before his little half-smile and soft hazel eyes soothed her insecurities, cumulating in the tender kiss that he pressed to her mouth, a kiss that sent her heart fluttering and her insides tingling. Afterwards, he would always go about dressing himself as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and she would watch him, almost bursting with love.

She twined her hair into the usual bun while she watched him—that, at least, was something that she could still do—and when she was done, she pushed herself back to her feet. John was with her in a moment.

"Ready?" she asked.

"I am," he confirmed. "We've plenty of time for a nice stroll to Downton. My knee is a bit sore. I could use a slow amble."

Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes, biting at her lip to prevent her smile. John used the same excuse every single day. He wasn't walking any slower than usual. It was entirely for her benefit. She loved him all the more for it.

Unfortunately, the bitingly cold winter mornings did not lend well to slow ambles. It was still pitch black, and the ground was lethal. Their breaths misted. Anna shivered, even through the thick layers of her clothing. John shot her a concerned look.

"I think we should start accepting his lordship's offer of using the car," he said. "We can't have you getting cold."

"How can I be cold when I have you here with me?" she refuted. "You're the best counter to the cold weather."

"Perhaps when we're in bed," he murmured. "And now you're pushing the covers off complaining that you're too warm. Out here it's freezing, and I can hardly keep my arms around you all the way up to Downton."

"Pity."

"On a serious note, we really should think about it. The ground can be treacherous at this time of year at the best of times, never mind when you're eight months pregnant."

"John, we know the paths here in winter like the backs of our hands. I see no harm as long as we're not rushing."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?" he sighed.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Bates. You knew that when you married me."

His gaze softened at that. "I certainly did. And I wouldn't change it for the world."

She squeezed the hand she was holding, feeling their child squirm enthusiastically inside her. Together, they continued on their way to Downton.

* * *

The morning was hectic. From Lady Mary's demands—lessened from usual, it was true, but she was still a servant at the end of the day—to avoiding Mr. Carson's bad mood, there had not been a spare minute for her. Even at luncheon she had barely had time for more than a quick cup of tea and a hastily snaffled sandwich, courtesy of John and Mrs. Patmore teaming up to ensure that she got something into her system. Now she paused for a moment on the stairs, puffing a bit. She pulled out the handkerchief she kept tucked up under the sleeve of her dress and dabbed at her forehead.

"Anna?"

It wasn't John's voice, as seemed normal these days; he shadowed her footsteps like a detective searching for clues. Guiltily, she turned around to find Mrs. Hughes behind her, giving her one of those no-nonsense stares usually reserved to make the younger members of staff quail in their shoes.

"Can I help you, Mrs. Hughes?"

"You can help me by slowing down a little. Goodness me, you're hurrying around as if you haven't got a very healthy baby growing inside you!"

Ah, so it was another round of the same argument. Anna repressed the urge to roll her eyes. She would be swaddled in blankets and carried from room to room by the end of this if she didn't keep her wits about her.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hughes, honestly," she tried.

Mrs. Hughes came closer.

"I don't wish to sound rude, Anna, but you don't look fine to me. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Anna wilted a little at that, heaving a sigh. "No, there's nothing you can do, not unless you know of a comfortable sleeping position for a pregnant woman."

Mrs. Hughes clucked sympathetically. "You're not sleeping?"

"A snatched hour or two every night. Nothing consistent." She hesitated for a moment, wondering how intimate she dared get with the housekeeper. She had grown from a child of fifteen to a married woman and expectant mother under Mrs. Hughes' eyes, and even though they had shared in far worse times, she was sure that there had to be boundaries about this kind of thing. She searched the older woman's eyes for some sign of discomfort, but there didn't seem to be any.

"Go on," Mrs. Hughes instructed gently.

"It's just…the baby spends a lot of time kicking during the night, and my stomach is so huge now that it's difficult to find a position that doesn't squash it. My back aches so much sometimes that nothing I do will shift it." Anna swallowed, embarrassed with herself for blurting it all out. It was something that she hadn't breathed a word of to anyone outside of John, and even then she had played it down because she knew it would only make him fuss more.

Mrs. Hughes hesitated for a moment. "Can you not speak to Lady Mary about this? I know it's not exactly something that should be discussed with a daughter of the house, but she's been through it before. She may have some helpful tips."

Oh, if only Mrs. Hughes knew about some of the things that had been discussed in Lady Mary's bedroom. Anna coughed to clear her throat. "This is different. More…private."

"What do you mean?"

Anna gestured helplessly to herself. "I'm not really sure how to discuss the ailments of pregnancy to a great lady of the county."

And it ran deeper than that too, in a way that she couldn't explain to the older woman. She had always been a private woman, but there had been a time where she had been unafraid to voice her opinions, to speak almost as an equal in Lady Mary's bedroom. The two of them had seen and done so many things together, things that bound them almost as close as John and Lord Grantham. And yet, since Mr. Green, she had guarded herself even more closely. Intimate conversations outside of John made her more than a little uncomfortable—she could still remember her horror when Lady Mary had asked her to take Marie Stopes' book and purchase one of the things detailed inside. There had been a part of her that she had never given voice to that had almost resented Lady Mary's flippancy over the whole thing, when she herself had struggled for so long and so hard to regain any kind of intimacy with the man that she loved with her very soul. Now, she still found it difficult to be truly vulnerable in front of anyone but John, had often deflected the topic of conversation away from herself and back to her mistress.

Shaking herself, Anna forced a grin. "Hark at me. I'll be fine, Mrs. Hughes. Now, I have to get on. I need to get this done before tea."

She hurried away before Mrs. Hughes could engage her in further discussion, feeling her eyes burning her back with every step she took.

* * *

John was nowhere in sight when she finally made it downstairs again for tea. Disheartened, she took her seat. Slowly, the hall started to fill up around them, but John did not make an appearance. She turned towards the housekeeper.

"Mr. Bates isn't usually late for tea," she said.

Mrs. Hughes gave her a knowing look before sobering. "He came to see me earlier and asked to be excused. He's got some errands to run for his lordship in the village and wanted to get them done without having to worry about being late. He said he'd grab a bite in the village if he could."

"Oh." Anna tried not to let her disappointment creep through her veneer too much. The truth of the matter was, she missed seeing her husband's face sitting across from her.

It had been worse when he had packed to go to Brancaster with his lordship, knowing that she would go without seeing him, it was true. But John had promised her that he would be going nowhere when her final trimester began, and he had been faithful to his word. Lord Grantham hadn't made many trips to London, but when he had he had gone alone, agreeing that John should be close by just in case. She loved that sensation, knowing that he should be far from her and yet instead he was right by her side, his heavy weight a constant reassurance to her and his smile making her safer than she could ever put into words. It felt strange not to have him across from her now, when she'd grown accustomed to him hovering to the point of irritation.

Mrs. Hughes patted her arm. "I'm sure he'll be back soon. I've no doubt that if he can finish his chores before the end of tea then he'll be walking back here as fast as he can to be with you. The poor man is an expectant father, after all, and you know what men are like where their women are concerned."

"Yes," Anna agreed. But even Mrs. Hughes' astute observation couldn't cast out the morose feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

John did come and find her later in the afternoon, a bit windswept and flustered.

"I've only just got back," he murmured as he followed her down the hall, automatically reaching out to carry Lady Mary's evening dress for her. "It took longer than expected."

"And did you get everything you needed for his lordship?" she enquired. She couldn't see any packages on him, even though he'd only just set foot through the back door.

"I did," he confirmed, but he didn't seem inclined to say more than that. Anna was curious and wanted to press, but she noted the look in his eyes. Maddeningly, she would get no more out of him. At least not yet. Perhaps when they were in the privacy of their own home he would divulge more. That was generally where they talked about their employers, out of the range of any eavesdropping from their fellow servants.

"Did you manage to get anything to eat in the village?" she asked as they started to mount the stairs together. "Mrs. Hughes said you might try and grab a bite."

"I didn't, but I can manage until dinner. It isn't that far away now."

"John," she said reprovingly. "You're always henning at me to keep my strength up, but you've got to do the same! You'll be no good to me if you're too weak to carry me home to the cottage if I go into labour."

"I'd get you to the cottage," he said stubbornly, and she had to hide the smile that wanted to bloom despite herself. She'd meant the comment teasingly, but John was always so serious when it came to the pregnancy. And it was probably true, too. She was certain that if it was the last thing he ever did, he'd get her there if he'd said that he was going to. He was so lovingly exasperating.

"Oh, never mind," she said. "Now, let me get on. You know it takes me four times as long to climb the stairs these days. Dinner will be over by the time I get up there, and Lady Mary will starve."

"Come here, then," John purred, and she thrilled when he leaned down to kiss her chastely. He rubbed her belly once, and then stepped away, back into the role of the consummate servant. The smile stayed on her face all the way up to Lady Mary's bedroom.

* * *

At last, the night was over.

The walk back to the cottage had been long and arduous. With her slow, lumbering steps, it had seemed to take an age to traverse the wild country lanes to their front door. John keyed them in and helped her out of her coat before starting on his own.

"What do you think? Shall I start a fire and get you a cup of tea?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"I'm exhausted," she said, the disturbed night's sleep hitting her full force now that she was back in her own surroundings. "I think I'll just head up to bed and try and get some rest." At least, she would if it was a possibility. She had barely felt their baby moving all day, probably lulled by the constant movements, so it stood to reason that they would become active at night when she was still.

"All right," John agreed. "Head on up. I'll not be far behind you."

She went through her nightly routines as quickly as possible, sliding, shivering, into bed once she was ready. She hoped that John would hurry up. The sheets were far too cold without him there to warm them. Wrapping them tightly around her, she closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would soon claim her.

It didn't appear that it would. Almost as soon as she had settled down properly, the dull ache began in her back again, a gnawing sensation that went deep into the marrow of her bones. Anna gritted her teeth. God, she would give anything to _yank_ it out of her.

The sound of the bedroom door opening distracted her temporarily from the irritating throbbing. John stepped into the room, sheepish and shy. He was clutching the thick blanket that they kept folded in the sitting room. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at that, but he did not move to explain himself, placing it on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he said.

"Don't be silly," she said, watching him gather his things together. He cast her a smile and then disappeared off to the tiny cupboard that they called a bathroom. She listened to the floorboards creak, mapping his progress in her mind.

It didn't take him long to reappear, clad in his favourite striped pyjamas. She had been pecking at him for months to replace them, because they really were looking worn around the edges. Which was a futile action in any case; she knew very well that John would wear them until the day they were so thin that they simply disappeared. She would have to replace them, if she could only find the energy to make the long walk to the village. Now, she contented herself with snuggling up against him when he slid between the sheets, accepting that it would probably be another sleepless night.

"Goodnight, John," she said.

However, rather than echo her words, John murmured, "Just a minute. I need to talk to you."

The statement made her frown. She couldn't think of anything that he would need to talk to her about. Huffing, she managed to struggle upright, planting one hand on her back at the sharp jolt and the other on her belly to sooth their baby as it lashed out beneath her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong," he reassured her. That sheepish expression was back. "I just have a confession to make."

"Oh? What's that?"

"I wasn't running errands for his lordship in the village earlier. I was doing something else."

"Are you sure that it's something you want me to know about? Confession of sin is for the church, John."

He rolled his eyes at her. "I was with Doctor Clarkson."

That stopped her short. Of all the things, she certainly hadn't been thinking along those lines. "Doctor Clarkson? Why? You're not ill, are you?"

The thought that something could happen to him, it was unbearable. She had been waiting for the other boot to drop for quite some time now. It had always been like that whenever they had had any snatched happiness: John's arrest shadowing their married bliss; the rape obliterating the happy married life they had built; Anna's spell in prison poisoning Mr. Green's spectre being banished for good. It made sense that something would come by to bring them crashing back to earth after their recent euphoria.

"No, no!" John rushed on, evidently following her train of thoughts. "Nothing like that. I went for you."

"For me?" Now Anna was more confused than ever. Why would John see Doctor Clarkson about her, behind her back no less?

John hesitated for a moment, scrutinising her face. "Yes. You've been complaining about not being able to sleep for the past three days, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help you."

Anna's indignation melted at once. Her dear, sweet husband. He always said that he was the luckiest man alive to have her as his wife, but he sold himself short in return. She was just as lucky to have him. "Oh, John, you didn't need to do that!"

"I _wanted_ to do it," he argued. "I've had the easy time in all this. The very least I can do is try to make everything as comfortable for you as possible."

She was unable to resist hooking her fingers around his neck, pulling him to her for an enthusiastic, grateful kiss. He was smiling when he pulled away, his thumb moving to smooth across her cheekbone.

"He actually gave me some good tips," he said.

"Such as…?" Anna had to admit, now that John had made his concession, she was eager to know more. If there was something that Doctor Clarkson had told John that could give her even the slightest relief, she was willing to try anything. Even if 'anything' meant dancing the cancan.

Thankfully, there were no such extremities. John moved his hand down to her huge stomach, cradling tenderly. Their baby kicked up a storm as he began to speak again.

"Doctor Clarkson said that the added strain on your back comes from the weight on your front."

"Well, I was well aware of that," she said dryly, and he flushed a little.

"Just trying to explain," he muttered, and she giggled, kissing his cheek.

"I'm sorry. Please, go on," she said.

He cleared his throat, doing as he'd been bid. "He told me that he'd found that many pregnant women found it easier to sleep if they had their bellies elevated. Something to do with it distributing the weight and reducing some of the pressure. Do…do you want to give it a try? It might help you sleep a little easier."

"Have you any ideas in mind?"

John lowered his eyes bashfully. "Well, I was thinking that you could use me."

"What do you mean?"

"Like this." John began to settle down on his back, right leg stretched out at an angle. He gestured for her to join him. "Now you lay across me."

"Lay across you?" Anna repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"It would mean that your stomach is elevated from the mattress," he explained. "And that would ease the pressure on your back. It might take a little getting used to, but I think it might be worth it in the long run. What do you say?"

"But what if I hurt you?" she asked. "I don't want to accidentally knock your knee or something."

"You won't," he reassured her. "Besides, I would bear anything for you."

"I don't want you to have to bear anything for me. I always want you to be comfortable."

"I could never be anything but with you," he promised her. "Try it. Please. If it doesn't work then we can put our heads together again, but for all we know this could be just the ticket."

Anna relented at that, never quite able to resist the softness of his gaze. If it wasn't so cumbersome moving around, she would have kissed him; she settled instead for squeezing his thigh. It took an almost embarrassing amount of time to get herself comfortable on her side, as she had been advised by the doctor a few weeks previous, but John waited patiently, never once passing comment. The arrival of the blanket made perfect sense now, and she tugged at it, folding it over herself to keep in the warmth. She was worried that John would be cold, but when she gave voice to her concerns, he waved them away, declaring that her body heat would be more than enough to keep him toasty too.

When she was settled, he reached out for her pillow.

"Putting this between your thighs is supposed to alleviate some of the burden," he said with an uncertain shrug, as if he wasn't quite sure how that was supposed to make any difference. She did it anyway. It wouldn't hurt to try.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she asked as she pillowed her head against his stomach, rubbing beneath his ribs in consolation.

"Not at all," he told her. His hand came down to stroke her hair, and she closed her eyes at the soothing sensation. "Go to sleep, love."

She did.

It certainly wasn't the most restful night of sleep that she'd ever had, with the three trips to the toilet that she still needed to take, but she found that she slept quite well between those times, and that the pain in her back and in her side had indeed lessened with the slight elevation. She didn't know how comfortable it really was for John, but he had never complained even once when she had roused him with her movements. She wasn't sure how conventional it was, either, to be sprawled the width of the bed while her husband lay adjacent to her, but she loved him all the more for going to Doctor Clarkson and asking for ways to help when she was sure that most men would balk at the idea.

When she returned the final time, half an hour before they were due to rise, she cuddled herself up against her husband's side.

"'S'matter?" he asked groggily.

"Shh, go back to sleep. Everything's fine," she whispered. "I'm just having a moment."

He grunted, his eyelids fluttering. He was trying to stay awake with her, but he failed rather miserably. All of the chaos surrounding them lately had been affecting him just as much as her.

She found his hand and smoothed her thumb over his knuckles gently, listening to the soft snores that escaped. She didn't think she could love him more than she did at that moment, with his desire to see her warm and comfortable and happy. Lying there in the darkness, with her husband's heartbeat thumping steadily in her ear and their child wriggling in her stomach, Anna found that the frustrations of the last few days simply melted away.

She'd found peace at last.


End file.
